by Phil Lollar
“Next assignment?”
“Why, yes,” said Blackgaard earnestly, “for European Security. I am in, aren’t I?”
Filby snorted so loudly he nearly choked. “You think I’m going to bring you into the agency after the way you botched this assignment? Why on earth would I do that?”
At that moment, Blackgaard’s cell phone rang. He set Sasha gently on a nearby counter and held up a finger to Filby. “Hold on one moment. I need to take this.” He retrieved his phone from his coat pocket, flipped it open, and put it to his ear. “Blackgaard. Ah, Hakim! How lovely to hear from you! What’s the latest? . . . Uh-huh! . . . Mustafa has agreed—Red Scorpion will meet me! Well, that is good news, indeed! Please hold for a moment . . .”
He punched the hold button on his phone, snapped it shut, and reached for Sasha, stroking her fur absently. “You know, Filby, I keep wondering why you had an asset who was on the take, and you didn’t tell me about it. I mean, I’d hate to think you’re so incompetent that you didn’t know Phillips was going to double-cross you, but if you did know . . .” He locked eyes with Filby. “Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”
Filby said nothing, just glared at him.
After a long moment, Blackgaard waggled his phone. “Well? Hakim is waiting. Do I meet Red Scorpion as an agent . . . or as an independent contractor?”
The muscles in Filby’s jaw twitched, and his lips pressed thin against his teeth. At last, he jerked his head away and snarled, “Fine! You’re in!”
Blackgaard smiled, took a breath, flipped open his phone, and said, “So sorry to keep you waiting, Hakim, my friend. Tell Mustafa I will be honored to meet with him and Red Scorpion as soon as possible.”